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Candide, Or The Optimist

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"It is certainly the Day of Judgment," said Candide. The sailor, defying death in the pursuit of plunder, rushed into the midst of the ruin, where he found some money, with which he got drunk, and after he had slept himself sober, he purchased the favours of the first good-natured wench that came in his way, amidst the ruins of demolished houses and the groans of half-buried and expiring persons. Pangloss pulled him by the sleeve: "Friend," said he, "this is not right; you trespass against the universal reason, and have mistaken your time." "Death and 'ounds!" answered the other, "I am a sailor and born at Batavia, and have trampled four times upon the crucifix in as many voyages to Japan; you are come to a good hand with your universal reason."  

In the meantime, Candide, who had been wounded by some pieces of stone that fell from the houses, lay stretched in the street, almost covered with rubbish. "For God's sake," said he to Pangloss, "get me a little wine and oil; I am dying." "This concussion of the earth is no new thing," replied Pangloss; "the city of Lima in America experienced the same last year: the same cause, the same effect; there is certainly a train of sulphur all the way underground from Lima to Lisbon." "Nothing more probable," said Candide; "but for the love of God a little oil and wine." "Probable!" replied the philosopher. "I maintain that the thing is demonstrable." Candide fainted away, and Pangloss fetched him some water from a neighbouring spring.  

The next day, in searching among the ruins, they found some eatables, with which they repaired their exhausted strength. After this they assisted the inhabitants in relieving the distressed and wounded. Some whom they had humanely assisted, gave them as good a dinner as could be expected under such terrible circumstances.
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